Lap Dance
by Marenfic
Summary: Tracy and Link make time in detention. There really should be more chaperones at this dance.


"Trace, you look beautiful."

She remembers that's what he said when he picked her up for the dance, with that soft reverence in his voice that always makes her heart flutter like a hummingbird in her chest. Tracy has just started getting used to that voice, the real one Link uses when he's not speaking as a Baltimore teen heartthrob but as her very sweet boyfriend. It's the one he uses when he compliments her, when he tells her she's the best, when he says _I love you, Trace._

Link's using a different voice right now, and Tracy's getting used to this one too.

"God, baby," he moans against her throat, low and needy in a way that pulls at places in her body that a few weeks ago she didn't even know existed. Link has her pressed up against the wall in the dark, deserted detention room, his hands gripping her waist and his mouth making a path from her lips to her throat and back. Tracy is trembling with the feelings he's creating, the wet hot of his mouth and the hard press of his fingers.

"Link," she calls, soft and breathy. She grips his shoulders, one hand reaching up to tease at the carefully styled hair at the base of his neck, and tries to press her body closer to his. The movement is awkward with the way he's bent over her to kiss her, the difference in their heights making it nearly impossible to have his mouth on her throat and her breasts pressed against his chest at the same time.

Link makes a sound that's part desire, part frustration. He steps away, his hands going loose on her waist and Tracy feels a flash of disappointment. Then she looks up, meets the deep blue of his eyes and she goes a little weaker in the knees. Link is looking at her like her ma looks at award-winning pie, looking at her like she's the biggest temptation he can imagine and if he doesn't get a taste soon he just might go a little crazy. His forehead furrows and he breaks her gaze, looks back into the shadows of the classroom. When he turns back to her, the furrow is gone and he's smiling that little grin.

"Come here." Link drops his hands to her wrists and when Tracy nods her consent, he leads her over to the teacher's desk. He stops, kisses her again long and slow, then pulls away just far enough to lean his forehead against hers. He lets out his breath in one long exhalation and when he speaks, his voice is unsteady.

"You sure you don't want to go back to the dance, doll? I know you were having a good time, and. . ."

Tracy shakes her head and puts her hand over Link's mouth. She smiles even as she falls a little bit more in love with him. He is always so sweet, always trying to make sure she's happy. She _had_ been having fun back in the gym, dancing with him and their friends. But right now she doesn't want to be anywhere else but right here, alone with Link.

"I want to be right here, with you," she assures him, giggling as he lightly nips at her hand with his teeth. When she drops her hand, he is smiling at her. He backs up and sits down in the chair, then pulls her down sideways across his lap with his hands at her waist.

"Good, 'cause I don't know if I could watch you dance anymore without wanting to do this," Link murmurs before kissing her again. Tracy feels his tongue flick her bottom lip and she opens her mouth, turns her torso so she is almost facing him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Kissing him was so . . . beyond anything she even had words for. It was so hard to think with the taste of him in her mouth and the feel of his hands, one trailing up her back and the other hugging her waist. When she finally breaks away to take a breath, he takes the opportunity to trail his lips across her cheek to the sensitive skin just below her ear. A shiver runs through her body in response, her breath catching in her throat at the sensation.

Tracy wiggles in Link's lap, the movement brushing her hip across the hardness straining against his fly. It makes Link moan, the sound reverberating in her ear and making her feel heavy and liquid with power and need. His hand slides up her side, under the short lace jacket that covers the top of her blue satin dress and he pauses for just a second before pushing it off her shoulders.

Tracy's mother had made her wear the jacket, even after Tracy had shown her that the strapless dress that she was wearing was just like one First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy had worn. Her ma hadn't cared though, not after seeing the shadow of cleavage that peaked above the bodice. She's declared it practically indecent and made her cover up a little bit. Tracy thought it was totally unfair, but then Link had picked her up and he'd looked at her like she was the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen.

He hasn't been able to keep his eyes off that shadow of cleavage all night, and now that they're alone with only the moonlight streaming through the classroom windows to see by, Tracy's happy to let him look more closely. She helps him slide the lace jacket off down her arms, lets him lay it on the desk on top of his own jacket before returning his attention to her.

"So beautiful, Trace," he whispers before kissing her neck, before sliding a hand up her bare arm and then, after a slight pause, across the top of her breasts. She hums and presses closer to him, loving the feeling of his solid body against hers. Tracy wants to feel more, feel the heat of his bare skin, so she takes a deep breath to give herself the courage and begins to tug his shirt out of his pants. The movement distracts Link and he stills, shifts his arms so that she can pull the tails free and slide her hand underneath to the warm skin of his stomach.

Tracy feels it clench under her fingers and Link groans _baby_ just before his lips touch her chest. It feels amazing and Tracy closes her eyes and arches her back to press harder against his mouth. Something in Link, some thread of restraint, seems to break with her movement and suddenly his hands are busy, one on the zipper of her dress and the other pushing up through the voluminous folds of her skirt until he reaches her stocking covered knees. He kisses her again, then pulls away to watch her face as he slides the zipper halfway down her back, far enough down that it only takes a single brush of his hand to make the top of her dress drop down to pool at her waist. Tracy bites her lower lip and twists toward him again, wiggles a little to help him pull down the top of her bra until her breasts spill out the top.

Link's gaze leaves hers to settle on her breasts. He trails a finger across the upper swell, his eyes tracking the progression of his touch down to her nipple, and around. Her nipple puckers even further into a hard little knot that twists things low in her belly and judging from the sound Link makes, the sight does something for him too. Tracy wants to tell him how much she wants him, how much the simplest touch makes her want to do things she doesn't even have names for, but as comfortable and loved as he makes her feel, she can't cross that barrier, not yet. Instead she watches as his finger makes contact with her nipple, watches as his hand closes around her breast with a movement that is less than gentle but feels so good, and when he dips his head down to close his lips around the tip, Tracy closes her eyes on a sigh.

She aches, there's no other way to describe it. Tracy can feel her pulse throbbing in places she hadn't really known could throb before Link. It's a steady, heavy thrum that is all about Link and his mouth on her breasts and chest and neck, the quick shallow way he's breathing when he comes up for air. It's about the way his hard thighs feel under hers, the harder more insistent press of him against her hip. And when the hand he has under the skirt of her dress moves up from her knee, up to toy at the edge of her stockings so that his long fingers are teasing the skin of her inner thigh, that ache intensifies to a needful anticipation that is all about Link too.

"Please," she breathes out on a moan and Link squeezes her inner thigh, pulls her upper body so tightly against him that she knows how much he wants this too. His lips find hers again and she kisses him, presses her chest against his as he fumbles with the ribbons and clips of her garters, trying to get better access to everything underneath her girdle. He pulls away, a furrow on his brow as he blindly tries to navigate the workings of her undergarments. Tracy would laugh at the concentration warring with the desire on his face if she wasn't just as eager for him to make more room for his hand.

Tracy knows good girls aren't supposed to let their boyfriends do this. Everybody knows that boys are only in it for the chase and once they get what they want, they leave. Good girls don't go all the way until they have a ring on their finger, and they certainly don't _like_ it even then. But Tracy's beginning to suspect that all of the stuff she's been hearing all her life is just a bunch of . . . well, a bunch of bull. She and Link have been intimate a few times now and he's still the boy she fell in love with.

And Tracy likes it. She _really_ really likes it when Link kisses her, touches her, and now that she knows what it feels like to have him inside her she doesn't care a lick what the girls in her gym class would say about her if they knew what was going on right this minute.

And what's going on right this minute is Link unclipping the final garter with a smile of triumph on his face. He winks at her and she starts to smile back at him but then his fingers are making contact with hair and then the sleek wetness of her and the smile gets lost in an _oh_. Tracy has just enough of her wits still about her that she sees Link lose his cocky confidence of a moment earlier, sees his dark eyelashes flutter over those blue eyes and face go tense and tight with need.

Then he is kissing her, touching her, sliding those long fingers through her wetness, around the tight bud at her apex and down, over and over. He hugs her to him with his free hand, holds her steady and secure while his fingers dance over her in a rhythm that he has already perfected in their few times together. Tracy gets lost in it, lets go of any lingering shyness or doubts, kisses Link and mewls into his mouth and listens to him whisper how much he loves her, how beautiful she is, how much he loves touching her and watching her. When he pushes a finger inside her she breathes his name, begs him with a _please_ until he adds a second. Tracy feels the ache build and build until it seems as though it will burst from her in amazing Technicolor. Her breathing gets shallow, and then she's holding her breath, moving her hips as much as she can to get closer, closer. . .

"Oh, Trace," Link moans, his voice low and guttural and filled with need and the sound tips her over the edge. That building ache reaches a crescendo and she breaks in rolling waves, the clench and release of her pleasure tearing soft little gasps from her throat. In the back of her mind she's aware that Link is starting to grip her tighter, trying to hold her still but it's several long moments before she's back in her head enough to see the tightness on his face.

Link tries to smile, but it's strained. Tracy catches her breath in the aftermath as she watches his face, watches him struggle with something that looks like pain. The thought that maybe she hurt him, the thought that maybe the weight of her on his lap and the movements of her hips did something to him, flashes through the numbing pleasure and she shifts.

Link's eyes go wide and he squeezes her thigh. "No, babydoll, don't move," he says in strangled voice and Tracy suddenly wants to cry.

"Did I . . . are you hurt, Link?"

The question seems to distract him from what he's feeling for a second. His eyes soften and he shakes his head. "No, no little darlin'. I just. . ." Link blushes and his gaze darts down to her uncovered breasts, then back up to her face. "I'm just going to embarrass myself in a second if you don't stop moving like that in my lap Trace."

Tracy's confused for a second, and then a blush creeps over her cheeks as understanding comes. Inside she's glowing. Link Larkin, king of cool, is about to lose it over_ her_. It makes her feel powerful and sexy but as much as part of her wants it to happen, she stills her body and tries to catch her breath. If Link doesn't want to lose control, she won't make him.

Several long moments pass, and then Link moves, pulls his hand reluctantly out from under her skirt and cups her face. He gives her a pained look and a chaste kiss. She can still feel him hard and straining against her hip, but he's breathing again and Tracy knows the moment of no return has passed.

"God, Trace, you have no idea how much I want to be inside you right now."

"You do?" It's an innocent question, but she knows the answer. She can see it in his face and can feel it in the way his hands are trembling. She can feel it pressed tightly to her.

He nods, then kisses her slow and deep. Tracy can feel the ache building between her thighs again, can feel that liquid warmth and the fast beat of her heart. She wiggles off his lap and stands up on shaking legs. A shadow of disappointment flickers over Link's face before he controls it, smiles at her and nods.

"Yeah. Yeah. Give me a minute and we can go back to the dance," he says, letting out a long shaking breath and closing his eyes.

Tracy flicks her tongue out to taste her lip, takes a deep breath to gather her courage and her skirt, and straddles his knees. Link's eyes fly open at the feeling of her thighs on either side of his, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. Tracy just smiles, a little shy and nervous and feeling so exposed as she stands over him. She reaches forward and pulls at his tie until it comes undone, starts to unbutton his shirt.

A harsh breath puffs out of Link's throat and he grabs her hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes Link, I'm sure."

Link searches her eyes, then lets go of her hands and watches her as she unbuttons his shirt. When she gets to his belt buckle she fumbles a little, her knuckles slipping down and grazing his erection through his pants and he makes a noise that makes her knees go a little weak. He murmurs something she doesn't understand and gently brushes her hands aside so he can undo his belt, his fly. Tracy runs her fingernails gently over the soft muscularity of his chest as Link shifts up his hips and pushes down his pants and underwear. Tracy's eyes flick back and forth from his face to where he is fumbling on a condom, wanting to watch but still a little shy about staring at that part of him.

When he's finished, Link runs his hands up her sides, letting one wind behind her shoulder as the other grips her neck. He pulls her head down and his breath is fast and hot on her mouth in the seconds before he kisses her. She loses herself in that kiss, sliding forward in his lap and holding on tightly to his shoulders. The change in position makes the tip of him brush against her and she swallows his moan and her own.

"I need. . ." Link begins in that breathless voice, and Tracy nods, because she needs exactly the same thing. She wants to feel him inside her but now that she's gone this far, she isn't sure what to do. They've never done it like this before. Link has always been the one to guide the movement, the one to cover her body with his and take her places she never wants to return from. Tracy isn't entirely sure what to do and a part of her worries that he won't like it or that he'll think she's too loose, too easy, if she can figure it out.

Link watches her face and he must see the doubt and read it for what it is, because he reaches between them and guides himself to her entrance, arches his hips just enough that the head of him pushes inside her a fraction of an inch. The sensation brings a flood of that familiar warm need and Tracy gives into it, uses her grip on Link's shoulder and neck for balance as she lowers herself slowly until he is buried inside her and she is sitting in his lap once again. He calls out her name as his eyes flutter closed and the muscle in his jaw jumps. For several seconds he doesn't move, letting her adjust to the feel of him inside her, and then his eyes blink open, fly over her face and chest and down to where they are joined. His view is blocked by the folds of her skirt, folds that he brushes aside for a moment so he can grip the bare skin of her hips.

Everything Tracy is wearing is bunched up around her torso, and it should be uncomfortable but she doesn't feel it all. All she can feel are his hands gripping her and the length of him filling her and it's amazing but it's not enough. She needs to move, and if the way Link is shifting under her, she can guess that's what he wants too. Tracy lets go of the uncertainty, of her worry that she won't know what to do, and she shifts so that he is drawn partially out of her, then presses back down.

Link's head rocks back and he watches her through hooded eyes, his gaze flitting from her face to her breasts, back and forth as she finds the perfect rhythm. She watches as his breath goes even more fast and shallow, hears herself give a low moan when he begins to whisper to her how good she feels, so wet and warm and tight around him. She moves her hips with smooth confidence, like this is just another dance between them.

Tracy knows if she worked a little harder she could find the right angle, that eventually the pressure that's building inside her will rise and break and that she will come around him, but she isn't willing to wait for it. She sees how close Link is, how little control he has left and she wants to watch him lose himself in what he's feeling, wants to see him lose control _because of her_.

"Baby . . . slow down. . . I can't. . ." There's a hint of panic in his pleading voice, and Tracy feels another thrill at how much he cares about her, how much he wants her to feel as good as he does, how much he wants her to go before he does. But Tracy has had her moment for the night and she wants to be selfish now.

"It's ok. I want you to," she whispers against his lips, then pulls back to watch the emotion play over his face, the thrill and the doubt. His hands slide down to her backside and tighten there, but he's still unsure, still holding back.

"Please, Link, now," she urges, moving over him harder and faster until he groans, closes his eyes and stutters his hips and lets go.

Tracy feels everything in her body tighten at the sight and sound and feel of his pleasure, and for a split second she regrets not getting there with him. But then he breathes her name, over and over, and the regret is gone. As he stops thrusting and relaxes his hands, Tracy feels a different kind of satisfaction that in this moment feels just as wonderful as the alternative.

Link opens his eyes and smiles. He pulls his hands from under her dress and cradles her face.

"I love you," he says before touching her mouth, tasting her tongue with his own.

Tracy cuddles into his chest, feels him wrap his arms around her.

"I love you, too," she says, and closes her eyes as she listens to the beat of his heart and the soft sound of the band drifting down from the gymnasium.

Tracy has a feeling detention will never be the same.


End file.
